Gridlock
by LifesVictory
Summary: They were too tired to let go, too tired to hold on, and so they fought a battle destined for eternal impasse. JS all the way.
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's Note:_** I know I'm in the middle of another story, and that this doesn't even have a coherent plot, and is kind of random, but I doubt many people will read it anyway. It's my indie fic, I guess you could say. Haha. Anyway, I might continue this for a few chapters, or might not. Enjoy.

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_We're in a gridlock_

_Stuck in stalemate_

_Some sort of twisted impasse_

_But don't you love the security of going nowhere?_

Vivian left first, as she always did, to get home to her kids, then Elena. By the time Jack decided to order appetizers, Danny had already reached for his coat and was beginning to make his apologies. The entire team looked as if it were ready to collapse from exhaustion and almost a week with virtually no sleep. Martin looked to his left where Samantha sat, staring blankly out the window next to hem and stirring her coffee with a fork. He whispered something in her ear, and she stirred reluctantly, nodding and arguing in a faint, weary tone.

Danny glanced across the booth to where Jack sat with his arm over the back of the ripped-leather seat. He felt a surge of pity for his boss. He knew Jack hadn't seen his kids in several months and had been living in a virtually empty apartment kept dark and lifeless by the absence of his family. Danny patted the middle-aged man's arm and grinned encouragingly.

"All right, boss, I'm heading out," he yawned and Jack smiled, shaking his hand.

"Nice work this week, Danny. Proud of you." Danny nodded at his superior and stood up. "You takin' the train back into the city or headin' to a Best Western?"

"Naah, I'm probably gonna throw myself on the next train pulling out of Harrison," Danny shrugged, and Samantha looked up at him as Martin put his arm around her shoulder. "As tempting as pushing the Federal Budget may be..." He saluted them all before shrugging into his leather jacket. "See you all Monday morning."

"Take it easy," someone called, but Danny couldn't tell whom.

A waitress moved over to them, favoring her right hip slightly and wincing at every other step. "Anybody want more coffee?"

"I'll take some," Jack answered, holding out his cup. "Martin? Sam---antha?" Samantha glanced up abruptly at the uncommon slip Jack had almost made. Her eyes locked with his before she put out her mug for a refill. Martin, unawares, shook his head.

"We should get going," he sighed, rubbing Samantha's shoulder gently. She nodded, her head lulling to the side. "Do you want me to drive?"

"Yeah," she murmured, sipping her coffee. He was ready to go, she could tell. "Hey, why don't you pull the car around and I'll be out when I get a to-go mug from---from..." she broke off as a yawn she'd been struggling to suppress loosed itself. Martin nodded and slid out of the booth. Samantha's eyes slid from Martin's now unoccupied seat to the man across from her, who watched her with half-open eyes, a unlaughing smile, and a strangely appealing shadow growing along his jawline.

She slid her hand to the center of the table to where his lay, palm up, fingers open and relaxed. She stopped when her pinky and his thumb barely touched. Samantha looked up. "Please get some rest," she whispered.

"Yeah," Jack coughed. Her eyes fell to the unbuttoned top of his white shirt where they lingered, stuck. "Hey." No response. "Samantha."

"Huh?"

"Martin's out front," he forced his face to remain as a smooth shield. Her hand withdrew, the connection broken.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping more than they had moments ago, and collected her coat and scarf. Not looking up, she slid out of the semi-circle booth and stumbled by the table. At the last moment, Jack caught her arm with the hand that had been draped over the booth. She halted and glanced from her captured arm to his eyes. The drowsiness had drained from both pairs of eyes. After a second, his grip loosened, and he simply forced his gaze to remain focused on her eyes. "We can't keep doing this."

"I know," she whispered.

"Don't go with him." Her breath shot out from her in a muffled cry and she smiled away from his eyes. "Stay."

"Please, Jack..." Samantha sniffed helplessly. "I can't." He watched her for another second before standing up suddenly and pulling her out of the way of the window where there was a dividing patch of solid wall.

She sucked in her breath as he kissed her, holding her close to him by her wrists. Neither of them cared about the several sets of eyes watching them behind the cash register. She didn't resist, but she wouldn't give in, either. Finally, he released her mouth.

Her eyes were watery with tears and tiredness. "Sam." She shook her head and looked away. "Sam, look at me." He pushed her chin up with his finger so that she faced him.

It was the name that drove it home, both of them knew. It was the name of her vulnerability, of her trust in him. He was the only one who could say it...say it right. Martin said it once, and she flinched. Danny yelled it when she left her purse in the cab they'd shared, and from his lips, it was embarrassing and made her blush. But, Jack...

Her eyes slid to the left and saw Martin's figure approaching in the distance. She released herself from Jack's grip and straightened her messy, blonde hair. "I have to go." She slid out of his arms like water and then was gone. He stood there, facing the wall for a moment more, until he heard the car door slam and the wheels pull out of cracked and gravelly pavement.

Jack turned around. "How much do I owe?" He asked. A tiny waitress a little older than he ruffled her feathers in a dreamlike state as if she had just been watching the soaps.

"It's on the house," she breathed wonderously. He tossed four dollars onto his table, grabbed his coat, and slumped off into the foggy, Newark midnight.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Wow! I'm really blown away by the response I've been getting to this thing! I appreciate the wonderful feedback and will continue to add onto this because I've got what may be a functional plot fermenting in my brain and I really do love their situation, as cliche as I morph it into.

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**Chapter 2**

Samantha and Martin pulled into the Newark train station at a quarter to one and left the rental car they'd purchased with a valet. Her exhaustion was so great that she could barely feel it any more, and when Martin told her to try and get some sleep while they waited for their train, her eyes burned when she tried to close them. He talked softly next to her, with his fingers locked around hers, but she couldn't hear him. Her thoughts were too loud, too overwhelming to let any of her senses work properly.

She was thinking about Jack. About the look in his eyes when he grabbed her arm. About the rasp in his voice that made eletrical sparks at the base of her spine. About the things he said to her, things she was too afraid to say herself, but that was why she loved him, for his bravery...

_­...that was why she loved him..._

She blinked, and her eyes stung sharply against her lids. _She loved him_. It was one of those things neither of them had talked about before, but suddenly, sitting there beneath a shower of flickering fluorescent lights, she realized that she did. She _loved_ him.

Samantha wet her lips suddenly, and remembered the feel of his mouth upon hers. The corner of her mouth twitched.

Samantha?" She jerked out of her reverie and looked to her left. Martin held a cup of coffee in his hands. She frowned, not even remembering him getting up in the first place. "Coffee?"

"Yeah, thanks..." She took it and stirred the contents with a plastic rod, watching flakes of powdered creamer float in spirals at the surface.

_What about Martin?_

Samantha glanced sideways at his face, tilted back against the spine of the bench, eyes closed. Yes, she supposed she did love him. He was good to her, he respected her, gave her space and freedom when she asked for it. Martin wasn't the kind of man you'd have an affair with. Martin wasn't the kind of man you'd dream of tempting away from his family just to have him for yourself. Martin wasn't. But Jack was.

A woman's computer-generated voice echoed from the intercom overhead. "The 1:07 train from Newark to Penn Station, the North Jersey Coast Line, will arrive on-time in one and a half minutes. The 1:07 train from..."

Martin's eyes lifted open and he yawned, managing to smile at Samantha in what she considered an extremely grotesque combination of gaping mouth and turned up lips. She laughed in spite of herself. Martin grabbed his overnight duffel bag. "Let's not plan any trips to New Jersey in the near future."

"Fine by me," Samantha said weakly, even though she hadn't minded the Newark City Limits as much as she'd expected.

They were standing at the edge of the platform and Martin was holding her bag for her. She could hear the mechanical chugging of the 1:07 train to Penn Station grumbling in the distance, and a pleasant breeze blew back her messy hair. The lights of the front car appeared from around a curve in the landscape.

"Hey, Samantha..."

Surrounded by a billowing cloud of white steam, she could see the train pulling towards her and revelled at its speed. Her toes crossed the yellow, twelve-inch-thick cautionary line as she watched it racing towards her, slowing down but seeming to accelerate as the lights grew brighter.

"Samantha?"

The fluorescent lights shone on the slick metallic coat of the train as it flew closer, the noise drowning out all else. Her feet touched the edge of the platform as the lights blinded her and wind stirred up from the racing train raced into her clothes and hair and the noise and everything all combined produced the exhilaration of a lifetime.

"SAMANTHA!" Arms pulled her back and she stumbled into a warm body as her eyes blinked to try and comprehend what had happened. She looked up into Martin's concerned eyes. "What the hell, Sam?" He panted, more worried than upset. "There's a 'please do not stand beyond this point' line for a reason."

She shrugged sheepishly. "I used to do that as a kid. Quite a rush." Martin laughed nervously and wiped away the coffee he'd spilt on his sportsjacket. "Sorry."

"No problem. Are you ready to board?"

They carried their luggage and meandered through an empty passenger car before sitting down in two available seats near the window. Samantha handed Martin her bag and he secured it on a rack behind them. Suddenly, she froze. Martin must have noticed because he asked her, "You okay?"

"My purse." She looked up at him, brows furrowed.

"What?"

"My purse, Martin! I don't know where it is!"

"Did you put it in your duffel--"

"I don't know, help me check." They pulled her suitcase from the rack and Samantha ransacked it desperately. "It's not here! Oh, _shit_, Martin!" He rubbed her shoulders.

"It's okay, we'll file a report for it at the station when we get back." She shrugged off his hand, suddenly very tired and very irritable. "God, Sam, how much cash did you have in there?"

"Very nice, Martin," she snapped and walked to the end of the car. He threw up his hands and scratched his neck.

"Where're you going?"

"To check the platform!" Once off the train, she lit a cigarette and stood by the bench they'd been sitting at. Wonderful. Her cell phone was in that purse, her ID, her wallet, her badge... her _badge_. "Oh, _God_..."

"Miss?" Samantha looked up and faced an old man in a prim coat and tie. "We'll be pulling out soon. You'd better get aboard." She nodded and took the cigarette from her lips to look around again wistfully for her bag.

"All right," she sighed, and climbed onto the still open doorway to a few quick stairs. The wallet she could replace, she thought. And her license would be a pain to renew, but...

"SAM!" She whipped around so abruptly that her neck popped and twinged angrily in disgust. Samantha looked around, eyes wild; she was hearing things, surely, and the white clouds billowing from an air vent below herstung her eyes, but...

The steam cleared.

A warning siren indicating two minutes before departure sounded.

And Jack was running towards her from the other end of the terminal with a black, leather handbag in his hand.

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**A/N:** It wouldn't be my kind of story if there weren't an aggravating little cliffhanger. Don't worry: I won't keep you waiting long. :-)


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** I'm so grateful to everyone who's read and responded to this story. It has meantincredibly muchto me to see that people enjoy reading what I get so much out of writing.I'mdefinitely going to crank more out of this sort.However, all good things must come to an end... **

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**Chapter 3**

Jack slowed to a walk when he saw her and squinted as the steam cleared briefly between them. She stood perfectly still on the very last step of the passenger car she'd occupied, her breath barely escaping from her bright red lips. The truth was Samantha couldn't have moved, even if she wanted to; she was rooted to that step because if she'd tried to move forward, she would have collapsed into nothingness.

Her body flooded with relief when he took the first step. "You left your bag."

"Yeah..." Samantha swallowed although her throat was dry and constricted. "My badge..."

"I got that, too," he said, moving closer and holding the leather purse out to her. She reached out and took it from him before clutching tightly against her chest. "Is Martin..." He indicated to the passenger car.

"Yeah..." It was all she could manage to say, and she felt ridiculous, but Samantha stood spellbound from the exhaustion, the billowing steam, and the dark, brooding eyes she'd fallen into. "Jack, I know it's---"

His body jerked and he seemed to wake up as her voice grabbed something in his chest; he took a step forward. But the steam billowed up and separated them with a wall of infinite white smoke. He heard the 'last call' whistle sound behind him and waved the smoke away desperately. "Wait! Samantha? Are you there? Can you--"

Jack coughed, and froze as he heard the grinding pulses of the engines igniting and the metallic exterior of the train began to move away from him. His heart was pounding hard and fast against him causing his vision to blur slightly. He reached out into the pure white mass of steam and felt only air. The train was moving faster into the dark oblivion, and her voice faded into the groaning of the machine's underbelly.

Before he realized, the train was gone. He could see the lights disappearing through the copious smoke. Jack inhaled, his breath catching haggardly, and turned back to the terminal as the steam cleared into the frosty night air. Her unfinished sentance still rang in his ears.

Shaking, trembling, questioning--clear, but laden with weariness and surrender:

"Jack."

The memory of her voice rang through his mind as he walked the length of the platform.

But it came again, unbidden. "Jack!"

He froze. And turned. And she was there.

A breeze from behind her blew her hair across her face and she smiled sadly.

He stared across the distance between there, his head cocked to the side, breathing irregularly. This time she took up the burden and walked forward slowly, her hands hanging limply at her side. Now that the choice had been made, she seemed to give in to the consequences and it unexplainably gave her a phantom rush of strength to keep moving.

Samantha was right in front of him now, and the familiar mix of doubt, hate, longing, love, and uncertainty rushed to the surface, but she simply let them flow out of her as she looked up into his face.

"I shouldn't have gotten off that train," she sighed heavily. He hook his head and almost took a step forward, but simply lifted out his hand and held onto her sleeve.

"I know."

"You should have waited until Monday," Samantha added with a half-smile and Jack looked up from the hem of her sleeve and returned the smile as best he could.

"Probably," he murmured. "You're right, I probab---" She cut him off abruptly when her face collided with his, mouth hungrily seeking his, dropping her bag so she could coil her hands through his hair and around his neck. He grew dizzy as his breath was lost somewhere in that kiss, and he grabbed her around the lower curve of her back and lifted her slightly off of the ground.

Samantha was panting slightly when she finally broke away before she completely blacked out from lack of oxygen. He watched her face completely aglow with the renewed flush in her cheeks and revived clarity in her eyes. "If you weren't so damn romantic, I'd be practically in New York by now."

"Well, nobody asked you to leap off that train just because I found your purse for you." He pulled a strand of hair from her eyes, not letting her body go any further from his and enjoying the warmth that resulted.

"Excuse me, I did not 'jump' off of anything, I made a choice and calmly went through with it, and what the hell was I supposed to do, anyway? Running through billowing white steam, hair flying, with that little crease you get in your forehead when you're anxious..." She was interrupted when he squeezed her tighter against him.

"I love you, Sam," he said in a breathy slur, and she felt her entire body relax into his arms. _There_. There it was: perfect and completely his. It was like breathing in the steam from strong, dark coffee and the beginning of fall and the feel of cool sheets against bare skin and coming home to someone you'd been missing the entire day at work. It was all there, in his voice, in those words. Perfect.

"How long do we have?" she whispered softly, fingers resting against his shoulders. Jack shook his head without leaving her eyes.

"I gave them the weekend off," he answered, and she yawned, shifting to his side so they could move. "So, a day, I guess. Tomorrow."

"A lot can happen in a day," Sam said absently as they began to move towards the steps leading out of the terminal. Jack slid his arm around her waist and felt her head fall lightly against his shoulder. "Especially if it's a 'tomorrow'."

_Fin.

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A/N: I'm really happy with the way this one turned out. It's for sure inspired me to keep on this similar style of writing. Thanks for all of the valuable input! -LV_


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